


A Torment of Gentleness

by Musyc



Category: Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Established Relationship, F/M, Feathers & Featherplay, Joscelin Verreuil - character, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Phedre no Delaunay - character, Romance, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-22
Updated: 2012-10-22
Packaged: 2017-11-16 20:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joscelin has figured out the trick of teasing his <i>anguisette</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Torment of Gentleness

My patrons expect a great many things from me, and I am always able to provide. Whether it be tears or screams, whether it be trembling or begging, whether they wish to see me welted or bruised or lax from exhaustion and pain, I am always able to give them what they desire. I revel in it, the only Servant of Naamah alive who is capable of taking the basest, most demanding and violent needs and turning them to pure ecstasy and pleasure. It is my gift, my purpose.

It is also my curse and my burden. It is the one thing that turns Joscelin's eyes from me, that hardens his face and tenses his jaw. Joscelin, my beloved, my heart and my life, who has stood beside me through trials that only gods could ever hope to survive. Joscelin knows, knows down to his marrow, what sort of woman I am, and I know that it rends his heart. 

Our agreement was the result of a hard battle, of hours, days, weeks of debate and negotiation. There is only so much he can take from me, and only so much I can expect him to ignore. I do not mention my assignations to him, even though they are made only a handful of times per year. Perhaps I do not mention them especially because they are so rare. Were they commonplace, frequent, he might become inured to them, might give little attention to when I left the house swathed in silk and velvet, might barely notice when I returned in bruises and welts.

That is one thing I could not bear. I have lost Joscelin before, lost him more than once, and once I thought I had lost him forever. But every time he has returned to me, and I have returned to him. We are as joined together at the heart as the land is joined to the sky at the horizon. No matter how far we go, we cannot be separated. Still, I do not push him. There is one vow, only one, that he will not forswear, and there is one promise that I will not break.

I think of these things as I rest in my bath, allowing the heat of the scented water to soak into my limbs and relax my body, giving me a languid calm that I will carry to the night's assignation. My patron tonight will not demand struggles and fear, will not want me trembling. She is one of the few patrons I have kept through many years, and I know well what she wants. Tonight, she will want me to weep. If my body is relaxed and my mind is calm, it will take much longer for me to surrender. It will be much harder for her to rip my tears from me. She will be _very_ pleased by that.

I hear someone moving in the outer room, but the sounds are not those of my maid. There is the slightest, familiar noise, the sound of dagger sheaths against strong hips, and I smile. My dearest love and my deepest pain. Joscelin is in our bedroom.

I call to him and he comes to the door, his hair loose over one shoulder and his belt gathered in his hand. For a moment, I think of how it would feel should he take that belt to my body, should he take it in his strong hands and swing the leather against my buttocks and thighs. My hips move beneath the level of the water, my Pearl of Naamah throbbing between my legs. Joscelin's lips quirk, as if he knows how I have reacted from just the thought, and he tosses the belt behind him, into the bedroom.

He is unable to bring himself to torment me. He'll never wield it against my body, will never punish my flesh the way I desire, but I love him no less for it. Rather, I think I love him more, for it is truly the most delicious anguish to crave something so intensely, and have the one man I love be unable to give it to me. Only an _anguisette_ could understand the glory in having one's heart ground so fine. 

"I didn't expect to see you tonight," I tell him as I take his hands and rise from my bath. He helps me step free and holds up a silken dressing gown for me. I slip my arms into the wide sleeves and release my hair from the lover's haste knot. Looking over my shoulder, I lift my brows.

Joscelin smiles and bends to kiss my shoulder. "I know. But while I was out, I found a gift for you, and I wanted you to have it tonight."

I blink at him in surprise. Many patrons have showered me with many gifts, but Joscelin is not of that sort. His gifts are his steadfastness, his loyalty, his love and his companionship. That he has brought something for me has my heart fluttering against my ribs. I fasten the sash of my dressing gown and turn to slide my hands up his chest and around the back of his neck. "What is it?"

"A surprise." He taps the point of my nose and grins, almost boyish in his amusement. "Close your eyes."

Once I obey, he takes my hands and leads me into the next room. Joscelin guides me to the bed and strips my dressing gown from me before coaxing me to sit. I perch on the bed, fully naked, eyes closed, and I wonder what he is about. 

I have not long to wait.

Something soft brushes across my shoulders. I squeeze my eyes tightly closed and attempt to identify the feel of it. My lessons with Delauney in my youth do me well, and after a few seconds I can tell that Joscelin has touched me with a feather. The shape of it takes me a little longer, but at the distance he is standing from me, it can be only one thing. The tail feather from a peacock is dancing over my skin. "This is your gift?" I ask him, tilting my head up and smiling.

"No," he says, the amusement clear in his voice. "This is."

Abruptly, without warning, the feather flicks across my nipples. I suck in a breath and arch my back, moving without thought as my nipples harden in a second. Joscelin's laugh rolls over me and the feather flicks again. Left and right, across my nipples, around my breasts. I lift my hands and lace them together behind my neck, offering my body to him.

Joscelin traces the shape of my torso with the feather, dancing it down my ribs and across the flat plane of my stomach. It touches my hips and sweeps over my thighs. Unbidden, my thighs fall open. The feather moves and presses against my nether lips, already slick with desire. It flutters along my flesh, and I can hear my own breathing, fast and rough. These gentle, intimate touches, the brush of the feather against me - it is almost unbearable.

I want to laugh at that thought. I have been flogged, whipped, beaten, bled. I take more pleasure in pain than any person living. I am the only _anguisette_ in the world, born for punishment, bearing abuses that even gods cannot shoulder, and _this_ is near to undoing me.

I fall back on the bed, my arms stretched overhead, and I open my thighs wide, silently pleading with Joscelin for more. He obliges. The feather flicks over my nether lips. It brushes inward, touching the entrance of my slickened passage, dancing over the Pearl of Naamah, teasing along my body. Joscelin knows every inch of me, and he knows just where to touch. He uses every ounce of his knowledge on me.

It isn't long before I'm riding the crest of pleasure, so very close to flinging myself into the sky like a hawk and screaming as I dive. Only a few more moments, only a few more brushes of the feather. I need so little. So very little to reach that peak.

Joscelin stops.

He steps away, taking the feather with him, and he laughs quietly. "You're done," he says.

I shoot upright, fingers clutching the side of the bed, thighs wide and eyes wider. "Joscelin!" I shout, staring at him in disbelief. "Joscelin, you wouldn't!"

He sets the feather on a table and turns to me with a wicked smile, his blue eyes sparkling. "I would." Crossing the room, he kisses my forehead and caresses my cheek. "And I did. Enjoy yourself tonight."

With that, he leaves. I sit on the edge of the bed and stare after him, unfulfilled and aching. My patron tonight will find me weeping all too soon, will have me begging with hardly a touch. She will demand more from me as the price of her disappointment.

Slumping back on the bed, I smile up at the ceiling. Joscelin does indeed know me well, and it seems he has found a way to torment me after all.


End file.
